


Illuminations on a Rainy Day

by AlexBandGay_And_TheHurrikane



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Alex’s parents are there but they don’t do much either, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other monkeys are mentioned too but don’t do anything, Thunderstorms, so far it’s just really cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexBandGay_And_TheHurrikane/pseuds/AlexBandGay_And_TheHurrikane
Summary: Alex has been away from home for just a little too long. London’s far too warm and nobody can sleep anyway. Apparently there’s rain and cooler weather in the north. With the promise of good company and a good night’s sleep at last, how could he possibly say no?(Alternatively; there’s a lot of rain and Alex and Miles get cozy and drink tea)
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 24
Kudos: 36





	1. Part 1

Spontaneous occurrences had long proved to be some of the best memories Alex had. The ones he cherished and held onto for a long time, caught between memorising with vividity and romanticising even the more mundane until it glistened in memory the way he was sure it had in reality.

Floating in one such moment he realises he has no need to romanticise in the slightest. None of the colours need touching up, no edges need smoothing, every sensation is just right and for the first time in a long time he feels settled. It’s like that feeling when you’ve been overdue a haircut for a while, a long while — a phenomenon Alex certainly was no stranger to — and you finally get it professionally cut. That feeling when you leave the place, head held a little higher, mind a little freer. Or when you’ve had a long week but the laundry’s all folded and put away and the bedsheets are fresh and crisp and ready to be curled up under, a welcome respite for tightly wound muscles and a head heavy with crowding thoughts. Another feeling he’s no stranger too.

This time he’s, for once, made his own good fortune. A rarity indeed. The very second there’d been an opening, a chance to head home, out of the city and up north he’d thought about doing just that. He hadn’t acted on it straight away though. It took a few weeks and a very intense heatwave before he’d called, languid and lazy, sweating despite the fact he was only lying on the settee with a record spinning quietly in the corner of the room. His mum talked the weather as usual. Fixing his feet firmly to the ground just incase he ever started to hover.

“Glorious over here, your dad and I have been in the garden all afternoon, think we’ll eat outside this evening and all.” 

Suddenly he longed to join them. Sit on the patio and talk music with his dad, mumble more about the weather with his mum, listen to stories about their neighbours and old friends he barely remembered, fetch the newspaper in from the hallway in the morning and pitch in to help his mum on the crosswords whilst drinking milky tea at the kitchen table. 

Wiping sweat from above his eyebrow he let out a huffing breath. “It’s hot here, too ‘ot, dun’t even get cooler at night, yesterday it were still 30 degrees at 10pm!” 

His mum, lacking sympathy apparently, just chuckled down the line. “How many years did you spend in Los Angeles, love? And now London’s too much for ya?” 

He pouted, just a little, feeling petulant and suddenly exhausted in the heat of the early evening, the open windows offering no respite, not even so little as a breeze. “Yeh well I had a pool over there.” He mumbled. More chuckling from his mum. 

“Well darlin’, we’ve no pool or anything even close but... I did see on the news this morning that we’re forecast overnight lows of... 14 degrees... just something to think about!” 

He didn’t need to think about anything, there would be no semblance of work happening for the next few weeks, between the unbearable heat and the fact that the other Monkeys all had kids to sort out before school or nursery or whatever else started up again. Matt was in LA, Cookie off spending quality time with the family outside the city and Nick up north anyway. He’d considered joining Nick but something felt awfully lonely about the idea of him and his friend splitting at their destination only for one to reunite with responsibility and purpose and for himself to reunite with his teenage bedroom and the tattered strokes poster on the wall. Anyway, they’d decided to take a short break from “band stuff” as they referred to it and despite his earlier reasoning he did miss home, hadn’t visited since Christmas and hadn’t wanted to ask lest he should put his parents in the uncomfortable position of having to invite him in when perhaps they really didn’t want to be taking the risk. Now it was clear his mum didn’t have an issue with the risk he might have posed. 

“Yeh, maybe a long weekend would be a nice idea?” He suggested, checking his watch and the traffic all at once, trying to decide which route might be best. 

“Ohhh I see how it is, can’t get you to visit just cuz you want to see us but London reaches the mid-thirties and you can’t leave quick enough!” She teased relentlessly, laughing away with pure delight, not bothering to hide how thrilled she is that he was going to come home. 

He ignored her ribbing and instead wondered how quickly he‘d manage to get a bag together. 4pm. If he left after rush hour he might be able to make it out of London and home before it got too late. Speaking softly of his intention he muttered a gentle “would it be a lot of trouble if I got in around 10? I’ve got a key.” 

He couldn’t help it if he felt comfortably warmed by her suddenly gentler tone and her fond insistence of “don’t be silly love, I’ll be up to let you in of course!” He reckoned if he was lucky he could a bit before 7, miss the traffic, and make pretty good time. Leaving his mum and dad with a gentle “see ya soon” he wound up in a hasty rush, hanging up only after his mum had promised to save him some leftovers at dinner, barely containing her excitement. 

Several hours later and he’s sat sharing a quiet moment on the patio with his dad. The view of the night sky is hardly a polka dot paradise of Milky Way perfection but it still makes the thought of London’s light polluted skyline pale by comparison. Tiny dots fleck the blanket of darkness and he stares up at them with his legs crossed over one another loosely and a cigarette between his fingers. His dad starts talking about constellations. It feel like familiarity, comfort and reassurance all at once. The golden nectar of nostalgia seeping our from memories of a well spent childhood. The feeling of security that washes over him with every calm, accented word from his dad’s mouth is so welcome that he completely forgets to listen to the actual words. Instead he lets him talk and notices the occasional pause where maybe he’s expected to speak but doesn’t fill the silences. It’s alright though, his dad does so for him, let’s him pitch in whenever he fancies and stays quiet for a while every so often. Eventually, they get to safe, steady and easy topics, ones that he doesn’t have to think about but is easily able to answer. “How’re the lads then?” His dad asks. 

“Oh yeh, all good, all busy and all, spent a bit of time lately at the studio and we’ve had them round and all, but it’s just been too ‘ot the last few days to get ‘owt done.” 

Eventually comes the question he’d been waiting for. Not that he’d known he was waiting for it, until he starts to speak his reply and the curling coil in his chest starts to steadily unfurl.

“Mmmh, and ‘ow’s Miles?” 

As much as he’s relieved to hear the question, relieved to no longer have to expect it with every pause in conversation, he had sort of been thinking it would come from his mum. So, as it is, he’s caught very much off guard. After a cursory snort of a laugh he manages to mumble, “yeh ‘e’s alreyt, coping worse than I were with the heat — more stylishly tho, of course.”

They share a laugh and his dad doesn’t hover for too long on the topic of his friend but he does suggest in six short words something that Alex’s mind chooses to fixate on until the end of his cigarette and the beginning of their ascent to bed. And then several hours henceforth. 

“Shoulda brought ‘im up wi’ ya.” 

It isn’t until he’s lying in bed — his old bed in his old bedroom (new mattress, altered decor and new sheets of course, carefully made up by his mother, compete with a vase of fresh flowers from the garden) — that he decides to reach for his phone. By then he’s had plenty of time to wonder why he hadn’t thought of bringing Miles along anyway. The rest of the lads of course had their families and would’ve come up to Sheffield of their own accord if they were able or they’d particularly wanted to. But Miles... 

Well, he supposed, Miles was busy. Miles was always busy, always doing something, but he had expressed a desire for a change of scenery in the last few days, exhausted by the heatwave and lamenting the fact he’d not left the city in months, like everyone else. And just that morning he’d been complaining to Alex about how he was suffering in the heat. He’d chosen to do so by sending a topless, pouty selfie, squinting in the sunlight with his bare chest and shoulders glistening. It wasn’t even 8am yet and Alex was caught off guard so much so that he very nearly burned himself on the coffee maker. However, after a few texts — including a very small rant about the perils of such a photo at such an hour with such little warning — Alex came to find out that he’d barely slept because it was just so hot. Much like himself really. 

With the window wide open and a comfortably mild breeze making him pull the duvet up around his shoulders, he lay down and settled into cool sheets, pulling out his phone. A cursory “you up?” text received him a plethora of suggestive emojis followed by “of course I’m up, it’s too bloody hot” followed itself by several more emojis and then a selfie near identical to the one he’d sent that morning although in this one his crinkled squint was swapped for a sleepy expression half hidden beneath his glasses. Alex smiled on reflex, suddenly longing to hold him. 

“Come stay with me for the weekend.” He types, hitting send before he can think it through. 

“Don’t think that’ll cool us down at all.” Miles replies in seconds. 

“I’m in Sheffield.” 

Miles’ three dots pop up and he’s typing. Typing for so long that Alex’s uncertain heartbeat starts to match up with their rhythm. They disappear and then in the next instant pop up again. All the text reads is his name. “Alex” it says. Glittering and alone on the screen, taunting him in the darkness of the bedroom with that glowing light and that bright green bubble. Alex can hear it in Miles’ voice, one word, loaded with flirty sentiment and caring undertone, hinting at question but fully accepting the fact he may never get answers. Exasperated, Alex decides to be straightforward for a change. 

“Just for the weekend.”   
“It’s 15 degrees here.”  
“Also me mum misses you.”   
“Dad asked after you just now.”   
“Also I miss you.”  
“Please come.” 

Miles is typing again. For too long again. Alex frowns, tosses the phone aside and rubs a hand over his face, fully preparing to roll over and definitely not sleep for definitely too long having unceremoniously bared his soul. 

And instant later a buzz makes him reach for the device a little more quickly than his cool and collected persona ought to allow. 

“Just booked me train and it gets in at 5:15 tomorrow evening.”   
“You best come to pick me up at the station x” 

Alex can’t even reply straight away because he’s too busy beaming. “I’ll be there x” he sends, hesitating over the kiss but sticking with it in the end. 

“Booyah x” texts Miles. 

Alex fondly rolls his eyes, turns his phone to silent, flops onto his other side and promptly manages to fall asleep despite feeling a little like a kid on Christmas Eve. His mum will be thrilled in the morning. He’ll tell her over a cup of tea so he can get to watch her light up and give him that proud and excited look. A vague notion of “seeing Miles tomorrow, should catch some beauty sleep” crosses his tired mind and he feels a bit like for a moment he’s been inhabited by the spirit of a teenage girl about to see her crush. Yes, he thinks, settling into bed properly, it’s his mum who will be thrilled.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rainstorm hits in this second part but it’s thoroughly upstaged by the arrival of one Miles Kane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the first part! So many lovely comments to say you enjoyed it — I’m sorry it took me so long to get this one out but it sort of ran away with me! Hope you enjoy it :)

He’s ten minutes early for Miles’ train on account of the fact that his mum hurried him out of the door long before necessary in all her excitement. Not that he minded, it felt pretty good to arrive early and send off a text to say “I’m here, round the corner opposite the pub”. Makes him feel like he’s done something right. Miles appears not long after he’d said, all long tanned limbs, sunglasses despite the greying sky and buzzed hair. He’s carrying a weekend bag and wearing those loafers as always. Bloody gorgeous, Alex thinks. 

He’s unexpectedly quiet in the car. Alex had sort of expected him to be bouncing around like he always does, full of flirty jokes and witty humorous observations that have Alex floundering with his slower reflexes. 

“Feel like I have to warm you up sometimes,” Miles has once divulged, “like you start off all shy even after how long we’ve known each other. Then eventually, after the warm up, you’re dead quick.” Alex hasn’t been sure at the time if he should be offended but he’d long since decided not to bother dwelling, Miles always coaxed him out of that quietude pretty quickly. 

He greets Alex with the almost straight toothed smile that he’s not gotten used to yet and then he sits quietly and still-ish, hums along to the radio while tapping his fingers on the dash or his knee and keeping up a soft and constant commentary on buildings they pass or things he’s noticed about Alex’s appearance. All of it ever so slow and quiet and... calming. Alex on the other hand can barely keep himself still, he’s practically vibrating with energy, hands on the wheel turning confidently on familiar streets and thumbs tapping along to the radio that Miles sporadically accompanies and eyes darting over to look at him in a much too unsubtle way. Where Miles is laid back, the visual equivalent of a drawl, Alex is like a rattling set of dice in the bottom of a cup, the jerky elbow movements of the nervous player and the shifty side eye of the opponent all wrapped in one jittery parcel. 

“Breathe Al,” Miles chuckles, just as they turn onto Alex’s parent’s road, and just like that he huffs a laugh and lowers his shoulders. 

When they reach the house Miles shuts the car door, swings his bag over his shoulder and then swings his other arm around his waist, pressing a sneaky yet solid kiss at his cheek before following him through the door. Alex doesn’t even have time to blush, just smile wide on reflex. 

“Miles! Darling! It’s been much too long, come in come in! How’ve you been? How’s your mum? Oh Alex love, take Miles’ things up to the guest room won’t ya?” 

Penny is a rush of babbling homeliness, happily leading Miles to the kitchen with the promise of baked goods and apparently completely oblivious to the soft, smiling look the two of them share before Alex turns to fill his role of helpful host. Already, just halfway upstairs he can hear Miles waffling on cheerfully about the weather. 

A few hours later, after dinner and wine and plenty of conversation, Alex is feeling about as relaxed as he has in several months. They’re sprawled on the patio, his parents long since gone through to the living room to watch some comedy show since his mum deigned it “a bit nippy” an hour or so before. Miles on the other hand considered the temperature outside to be “just perfect” so there they stayed, a cigarette each from the packet in Alex’s shirt pocket, lit by the lighter from Miles’ trouser pocket. Entwined in every way. 

Alex casts a glance back through the French doors and upon seeing the comforting glow of the tv still on in the living room, decides he can risk scooting just a bit closer. Miles, apparently far less concerned about checking the whereabouts of Alex’s parents, responds by draping a strong arm around his shoulders. On reflex, Alex’s hand finds its way up to link their fingers. Miles smiles. 

Gradually, the sun sets further and further, air around them rapidly cooling in a way it certainly hadn’t bothered to in the capital. “Haven’t been so pleasantly cool in daaaays Alex,” Miles remarks, a posh version of his accent coming out with dramatic flare. 

“Didn’t I say so Miles!” Alex mimics. Personally, Alex could actually do with a jumper or something but there’s no way he’d want to go inside to get one and have to shatter their peace. Instead he lights another cigarette and watches the red tip glow brighter as Miles takes a drag before handing it back over. 

“S’probly a health risk,” Alex mumbles. He’s surprised but thoroughly delighted when the comment earns him a hearty laugh from Miles. His face creases up so pleasantly when he laughs like that and in the half light of the late sunset Alex can see his dark eyes sparkling. He chuckles and pulls Alex closer in, rubbing through his hair with a decidedly fond air about the gesture. Alex can’t help smiling properly, giggling along even though he’d not meant it to be a joke as such. Miles stops giggling eventually, gradually though, in that way where you first stop completely and then after a few seconds of silence you’re reminded of what tickled you in the first place and you’re set off again. They continue like that for a while, Miles huffing his giggles against Alex’s hair or breathing them upwards into the sky amid a wavering stratus of smoke. Eventually, in one of the lengthy breaths of still air and silent pondering, Miles wonders aloud “suppose a kiss would also be considered a health risk then eh?” 

Alex’s back tenses under Miles’ gentle touch, his fingers splaying at the base of his neck. He’s too close and the laughter dries up in Alex’s throat. He swallows hard, shakes his head and takes a deep drag from the end of the cigarette, forcing himself not to give himself away by glancing behind him at the light he knows is still blaring in the living room. He needn’t have bothered trying so hard for despite his less than welcoming body language Miles doesn’t falter, in fact those fingers at the top of his spine shift to squeeze gently at his opposite shoulder. “Relax love,” he murmurs, “M’not gonna kiss ya... not in front of yer parents anyways.” 

His tone hints at teasing but mostly it’s comforting, almost as comforting as the soft circles of his thumb beside his collar bone. Alex lets out a slow breath, leans in a little and allows the soft rise and fall of Miles’ body beside him to re-centre him. After a few seconds too long Alex finally chances a reply that he hopes is witty and a little flirty, and Miles giggles softly and presses a chaste, affectionate little kiss against his temple. Even that makes Alex’s heart beat hard and his chest stutter with his unsteady breaths. 

Not too long later the sun is set almost completely, just a purpling cloudy line at the horizon painting the sky overhead with a dusty shade of blue-black, like sun faded velvet. Through the glass of the doors behind them Alex is vaguely aware that the backlight of the flickering TV has faded to black. He’s no idea what time it is but supposes that his parents must’ve gone to bed. No need to chance the glance to find out because Miles kindly informs him that they properly alone by carefully, with gentle fingers — fingers so gentle in fact that Alex strongly suspects Miles is concerned that he might startle Alex into shying away — reaching to slide the palm of his hand where it fits just right against his jaw, perfect position to pull him close for a kiss. That kiss is so soft, so perfectly weighed out with absolutely no agenda beyond maybe a little reassurance and tender comfort, health risks long shoved aside as their noses meet and Miles’ lips against his form an unmistakable smile. 

By the time they part several minutes have gone by despite the fact that the kiss itself was relatively fleeting. Alex just stayed resolutely close, cheek brushing Miles’, the tiniest bit of stubble at the man’s jaw scratching Alex’s own in such a pleasantly close way. The breeze has picked up into something more akin to a brisk wind and the way he’s tucked into Miles makes him feel sheltered. The once clear sky is mottled grey directly above and inky black at the horizon and Alex finds he’s dimly aware of how much light the telly had actually been contributing. Those tiny beams of it that made it through the glass now stolen away, plunging them into an almost-darkness that’s so thick he can barely make out Miles’ lovely features despite being only a couple of inches away. Miles’ arm around him tightens a little. Maybe he had been concerned about his parents’ glances after all. In an instant, without too much thought, Alex decides he can get away with just leaning his head on Miles’ oh so convenient shoulder. No sooner has he done so than said convenient shoulder starts jolting in response to Miles’ soft little chuckles. Alex doesn’t bother to move though, set into hazy happiness by the sound alone and tipped over the edge by the spicy smell of his aftershave and the warmth of the skin of his neck as well as the weight of the arm that’s still holding him close. 

At some point Miles’ thumb starts moving in a rhythmic up and down motion like it’s trying to just smooth away the goosebumps prickling at the skin of his upper arm. Seconds later the first raindrop falls, like the long awaited vocals in a song after a very long intro, heightening wind and the gathering clouds, the cooling temperature and blanketing darkness each an instrument being introduced first. “Think it’s about to rain,” Miles provides, helpfully as though both of them aren’t blinking up at the traitorous sky and it’s moment ruining ability. 

“Cmon, I’ll make ya some tea,” Alex suggests, heaving himself to his feet and reaching down to take Miles’ hand and pull them inside out of the rain. 

They’ve barely closed the door when the cacophony of rain in glass surrounds them. Alex adds to the noise by flicking the kettle on, Miles closes the door against the suddenly pouring rain and Alex’s mum shouts from upstairs.

“Boys? Are you in?” 

“Yeh mum!” Alex calls back before turning to Miles with a mumbled “who else would that be?” as Penny chirps merrily, “make sure you lock the door then love! Goodnight!” 

Alex shares a fond smile with Miles, momentarily getting stuck staring. He looks so lovely, in the scant light of the kitchen, wearing that smile of his and that open shirt and his white vest underneath. Miles, that handsome distractor, ambles over, the picture of ease to assist with the tea making. Not that Alex needed any help obviously but who would he be to refuse when he got to watch Miles wander over to exactly the right drawer and grab a spoon without even having to ask where they were kept. 

A vibrant flash that lights the sky into a purpling hue reminiscent of early morning causes them both to halt their mundane activity and, although they’re both waiting for it, the cracking roar of thunder makes Miles jump. 

“That’s close!”   
“Very,” Alex agrees, stepping a bit closer to Miles like maybe he’s trying to rival the weather system raging outside. Miles hands him a steaming mug and he tucks it into his palm using the handle only for balance. Then his other palm settles around the slight curve at Miles’ waist. The same way he’s done countless time’s on and off stage, and in his kitchen or the occasional hotel room, in a pub or two, summertime, wintertime, on buses, at airports, backstage, in the sun, in the rain, on birthdays and at New Years parties, in the dark outside between mumbling and giggling and the sharing of cigarettes. This time, for reasons unknown, Miles’ stomach muscles all tense beneath Alex’s intrepid fingers. Perhaps Alex’s hand is too cold, or Miles is caught off guard, or maybe it’s just been so long since the last time Alex did that that he really is startled. The filthier part of his brain likes to pitch in with the all too tempting thought that Miles is showing off, flexing his muscles specially so that Alex’s touch will explore firm, defined abs. 

As quickly as he tensed up he melts into the touch, leaning to kiss Alex’s cheek. They fall into silence as they sit together on the settee in Alex’s parents conservatory, knees, shoulders, hips all touching. Alex takes a deep breath as another flash of lightning casts Miles’ features into sharp relief and Miles, in response — although to the lightning or to Alex’s gasp he’s not sure — circles an arm around him again. The rolling thunder that follows plays out for several seconds and Miles makes a low noise like he’s impressed. They say nothing as another 4 flashes and subsequent thunder claps come and go, chorused by the steady drumming of rain against the windows. As the rain falls harder and harder and the wind blows in through the open door Miles breathes out steadily beside him. Maybe he should close that door, it’s in no danger of slamming or anything because it’s propped open rather effectively but the wind’s shifted and the rain’s coming in and starting to spit at the tiles. Before Alex even has had time to wonder whether he ought to close the door or just shift the doormat over to absorb the worst of it, Miles slips from his grip to sort it out on his behalf. He opts for the doormat, glancing up as though checking that’s fine. A lightning flash catches the look on his face and Alex can’t help smiling which Miles takes as the affirmative he needed. Alex takes another sip of his tea, just watching and waiting as each crackle in the air sparks between them and then, before Miles sits back down he twists to grab the blanket he’s just noticed draped over the back of the settee. It’s mostly for show, one of those carefully folded and probably shouldn’t be unfolded type things that his mum really loved to dot around the place to add “texture” to a room. Miles shakes it out gently and drapes it around them both, curling up under it and around Alex carefully so that he’s still got room to drink his tea but he’s got no room for any other movement. Not that he’d bother moving of course, perfectly comfortable and warm as he was. 

“What’re you thinking?” Miles asks gently in response to what is most likely a glazed look of distance and maybe despair. His thumb is trailing over Alex’s forearm in steady motion.

“I were thinking how I should either close the door or put that mat down,” he says, offering a tiny smile and meeting Miles’ eyes. Miles chuckles. He doesn’t comment on their apparent mind reading abilities but what he does say manages to bowl Alex over entirely. 

“I’m good at makin’ little decisions for ya.” 

Alex lets out a hum that’s drowned out entirely by the flashing of thunder. When he finds his voice he doesn’t get to use it because Miles clears his throat and squeezes him closer and mumbles something like “and I’ll always be around to... y’know if ya need that.” 

It’s the closest they’ve gotten to addressing Alex’s blunt invite or the way he’s been just a little jittery ever since Miles arrived. Alex doesn’t even know how to explain it and he’s not sure he’d know what to say if Miles asked him to but he’s glad that at least Miles understands the response that he needed to it all. And it is nice, just to sit there content. Together with Miles boasts all the tranquility of being alone but with the comfort of companionship steadily pressing its mark on him. They stay there until their tea is long cold and the blanket around them more and more necessary, until Alex’s sock clad feet are chilly and Miles’ nose casually grazing his cheek in a kiss is equally so. It’s probably at least an hour and in that time the rain’s tapered off, wind lowered just a little but the storm rages on in the near distance, they mumble phrases to one another, jabbering away in the quiet as they count out the seconds between flashes and thunder cracks and count out the weeks they’ve been apart between kisses and touches.

Eventually, although it takes a while, Miles mumbles that he’s tired. Alex probably could’ve said something to save him the trouble seeing as how he’d been blinking hard for a good 20 minutes and probably wanted to take his contact lenses out. Reluctantly Alex shifts so that Miles can move and in doing so realises that he was quite comfortably wrapped up around the other man. It’s a default he supposes, some protective urge swallowing him whole until he’s successfully ensured that he’s got Miles between his arms and he’s going nowhere. It’s the only way he can avoid choking on the cocktail uselessness and despondency that gnaws uncomfortably in the periphery. Miles gets up unsteadily and yawns dramatically before busying himself with re-folding that blanket so that it looks exactly as it had before — some sort of magic trick Alex is certain. All Alex does is rinse their mugs and deposit them in the sink — he’ll probably earn himself a small lecture from his mum for that particular trick — and then, he pulls Miles in close. With the doors and windows shut again the room feels small and exposed to the wind and rain, the storm battering it from all angles even as they’re safe and warm inside. 

“Sleep in my room?” Alex asks. He’s no idea when he started being quite so efficient with his words, it’s certainly a new feeling, but he doesn’t hate it, especially when Miles rewards his blatancy with a raised eyebrow and a soft kiss.

“Of course, love.” 

The first pet name of the evening courses through Alex’s nervous system and fixes itself firmly in his chest where it sets him up with such a desperate pang of longing comfort that he almost whimpers. Instead he melts beneath the touch of Miles’ gentle fingers at the small of his back, unaware of how he even got upstairs, let alone under the covers and pressed face first into Miles’ bare chest. The blank spots in his memory don’t mind being filled with a clamouring multitude of old ones. Miles guiding him gently by the elbow to their tour bus with fans at every turn and the sun blinding him into panic. Ice cold Coca Cola on his tongue from the can gently pressed into his hand in a blazing hot day half an hour before their festival set was due to begin. A kiss between the bars of a song playing two stories below them at three am when the sky was clear and dotted with stars and the pair of them tucked themselves away for a moment to just be alone for their last night together in France, warmed by wine and one another and buoyed up on the excitement of a project just finished. Miles’ arm around his waist at a party where he suddenly stopped recognising each new face and subtly tried to seek out the ones he did know. Miles’ quiet and constant mumbles on a long journey where he’d long since zoned out to stare at the surroundings rushing by at lightning speed, headphones in with no music playing. The soft spicy scent of Miles’ aftershave leftover on a shirt he ended up being very glad to have worn to an interview where he found answers particularly hard to produce. Always he was there, just like he said he would be, to help him back to earth, to guide his feet and avoid obstacles, to tune him into his surroundings one sense at a time. 

“Oh, you’re back,” Miles mumbles, smiling at him and leaning to stroke some hair from his face. 

“Never left,” Alex mumbles back although it’s more just a deflective and immediate response that Miles replies to with just a raised eyebrow. He’s half asleep already, much too comfortable to move and totally and completely ensconced by Miles. “Sorry.” 

Miles just shushes him, kisses his forehead in a gesture so tender that Alex almost has to resist feeling comforted. Instead he gives in to it, leans close, takes a deep breath from against the little dip at Miles’ breast bone and relaxes just that bit more into his hold. 

“Did ya take yer contacts out?” 

“Yep.” Miles confirms, then kisses the top of his head like he’s saying “shush now, go to sleep.”

“When?” 

“Before we got into bed.” Alex doesn’t remember him doing so, but he’d been zoned out enough to only barely recollect taking off his jeans and throwing a pair of pyjamas bottoms from his own bag over at Miles. 

“D’you need anything?” Alex asks, like he’s trying to make up for the last couple of minutes of distance. He’s got just enough awareness of self left to stretch to “please say no, I’m far too comfortable to move.” 

Miles chuckles softly. “No. Shush now, go to sleep.” Another kiss. 

Alex thrums against Miles’ side with one thumb. They’ve left the window open a crack, just enough for the wind to be howling around and cooling the room, but not enough for the rain to get it. Alex closes his eyes and sighs deeply. 

“You okay?” Asks Miles, fingers in his hair and eyes sleepy and soft in the half light. Alex nods because yes, for once he’s made his own luck, he’s cultivated his own happy little moment with a phonecall during which he’d not faltered, a late night drive where he’d not turned back and blamed traffic and then a series of texts in which he’d not hesitated. 

“Miles?” 

He hums a response at the back of his throat and opens his eyes to fix a look at him. 

“I’m really glad you came, thanks.” Another rarity, words that say what they mean just falling out of his mouth but stopping as soon as what he’d wanted to say was finished. Miles looks sufficiently surprised but conceals it well on account of the fact that he obvious understands that Alex is being very truthful. 

“’course.” He sounds gruff, like there’s more he wants to say and he’s trying to hold it back. Alex wraps his arms tightly round his waist, shifts his position until Miles is curled against him, protective again and with duvet tucked around them both loosely so they’re not too warm to sleep. They mumble goodnights and just like that, with Miles’ fingers curling through his own, Alex finds himself tempted into the warm grip of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there’s a tiny little part 3 on the way, because I had an extra scene that didn’t fit with the rest properly so I’m gonna just add a bit to that and post it later :) thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> If you got this far, leave me a message to let me know if you’d prefer part 2 to be extremely fluffy fluff and little else, orrrrr the tiniest hint of angst to balance everything out?
> 
> Part 2 coming up soon, it’s mostly finished!


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